


Blair's Day Off

by 852_Prospect_Archivist



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Drama, M/M, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 08:33:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/796110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/852_Prospect_Archivist/pseuds/852_Prospect_Archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blair has a long-deserved day off.but of course, nothing goes as planned.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blair's Day Off

## Blair's Day Off

by Jvantheterrible

Author's website:  <http://www.angelfire.com/oh3/SkinnerSanctum/index6.html>

Characters are not mine. Belong to Bilson/DeMeo/Petfly.thanks to SciFi for starting up again! Missed my boys.OUR boys.and just who DOES own them now, anyway????

This is the longest thing I've written in a while. I've started at LEAST 6 stories in the past three months, and this is the ONLY one that wouldn't let me sleep! Not beta'd, but I pride myself on my OWN abilities.hope they don't suck too badly.

* * *

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

The alarm went off at 5:55 AM, just like it did every other morning, and Blair rolled over instinctively and wrapped himself around his lover as the older man reached for the offending object on the nightstand. Standard practice in the Ellison/Sandburg household was to set the clock for a half an hour earlier than necessary in order to allow time for some 'Good Morning Nookie' as Blair liked to call it. 

"Mmmph," Blair snuffled into the broad back that he was currently pressed bodily up against, every available inch of his flesh melded to that of his Sentinel. His arms wrapped around Jim and his hands joined just below the older man's navel, fingers clasped together and dipping down towards the column of flesh that strained up, trying to reach the roaming digits. 

"Mmmphh yourself, Chief," Jim whispered with a breathy chuckle as he bucked his hips up just enough so that Blair's fingertips grazed the tip of his already leaking cock. The Sentinel didn't need enhanced senses to feel his lover's equally excited member digging insistently into the cleft of his ass, and he closed his eyes and smiled to himself as he took Blair's hands within his own and pulled the younger man impossibly closer. He thrust upwards a little more, then bucked back and squirmed a bit, allowing Sandburg to align his dick between his own muscular buttocks. 

"G'morning, lover," Blair smiled into Jim's back, raining tiny kisses wherever his lips could reach on the expanse of flesh before his face. The younger man struggled to move his hands down to grasp his prize, and he groaned in despair as Jim held the offending extremities, forbidding his Guide to touch him - yet. 

"Uh uh unh Chief, not so fast," Ellison groused with a wicked grin to himself, "We've got at least twenty-seven more minutes...no need to russshhhh," Jim trailed off with a slight moan as Blair thrust forward and up. The movement was enough so that the head of the Guide's cock rested just inside the Sentinel's entrance, and the Detective struggled not to thrust back...Blair simply was not playing fair this morning. 

"Uhnhhh...who said anything abou-uhhhh-about fast, lover?" Sandburg muttered into Jim's ear as he licked the rim, nibbling firmly on the earlobe that he massaged with his tongue at the same time. Blair finally managed to distract Jim enough to release his hands, and the younger man efficiently took it upon himself to wrap both of his hands firmly but gently around his lover's cock, stroking and squeezing the pulsating flesh until Jim thrust up and bucked back involuntarily. 

"Hold still babe, here I come," Blair whispered as he felt Jim's passage loosen enough to allow him full entry, "Ohhhh yeahhhh, Jim, goddamn..." Sandburg's voice failed him as he slid fully into his lover, his substantial erection sinking fully into his lover's body. Lightly furred balls came to rest against firmly muscled flesh, no sounds but those of hitching breath and the occasional moan or muttered obscenity present in the loft. 

"Jesus...oh baby...Blair...I love you so much," Jim sputtered as he thrust back, taking Sandburg as far into himself as was humanly possible. Blair answered Jim's bucking with a precisely-timed thrust of his own, speeding up the stroking and petting that he was treating Jim's cock to so that they were matched, movement for movement. 

"Unnhhh...love being in you...feeling you around my cock, and in my hands, and in my fucking soul," Blair gasped into his Sentinel's nearest ear, licking and biting when he could remember to, nearly lost in the sensations of being inside his soul-mate. 

"Suh-suh-soooo close, baby," Jim panted as he worked himself backwards onto his lover's dick, then forwards as fast as he could, reveling in the friction that his Guide's hands provided. They loved to love one another this way; both men on their sides, spooned around one another, flesh flush with flesh, bodies melded as one, so wrapped up in one another that they completely lost track of where one man ended and the other began. This was the way they began most mornings, and as Blair sped up his thrusts into his lover, his hands flew gracefully over Jim's now-spasming cock, milking his mate's orgasm out of him so that the Sentinel shouted his Guide's name to the ceiling. 

Sandburg came a mere second after his partner, thrusting good and deep into his lover, touching that beautiful magic spot inside once more before succumbing to his own completion. He smiled as Jim clenched his muscles and milked the last bit of essence from the softening flesh still contained within him, chuckling aloud as he smacked Jim on the back lightly, "Enough already...you took it all, babe." 

"Damn right I did," Ellison growled before he pulled himself gently out of Blair's embrace, the younger man's spent cock sliding out of him and thereby allowing the Sentinel to turn over and face his Guide before proclaiming quite proudly, "And I'll do it again, too." Jim tried to look serious for all of about a second before Sandburg broke out into a hale of what could only be described as giggles, causing his partner to join him momentarily. 

Despite the rumbles of laughter escaping the two men, Jim managed to roll onto his back, pulling Blair bodily on top of him as he did so. The Guide quickly found comfort, face down on his Sentinel's chest as he was, with his left cheek resting on a warm, firm pec, his arms wrapped up and around Jim's shoulders. Ellison wrapped his arms around his lover and held the younger man close, digging his chin into the riot of dark auburn curls tickling the flesh there, feeling Blair's beloved pulse come back down to rest at a normal rate. "I love you so much, Chief," Jim said as he stroked the younger man's back. "So very, very much." 

Blair raised his head so that his chin now rested on the firm flesh of Jim's chest, a slight mist of tears caught up in his own cerulean gaze as he looked up at his partner in what would likely never cease to be unending wonder. Each time the Sentinel proclaimed his love for Blair, the Guide found himself entranced, caught in a swirl of emotion that no matter how many times he heard it, still made him feel like it was the first time. It was that special, this bond they shared. An entire year of being lovers - following four years of being platonic partners - still couldn't shake the intense soul-shattering love that Blair felt for Jim. Every second of every minute of every hour of every day of every week, Sandburg felt his connection with his Sentinel deepen; an ever-growing chasm that no one or thing could ever breach and/or taint with whatever intended ugliness it might attempt to spread. 

"You're my very fucking soul, Jim. I love you with my whole being, and I still wonder, every day, if it's enough to capture and hold all the things I feel for you. You complete me, man," Blair said with a huge grin as a lone tear trickled down his cheek. The tiny salty drop didn't make it to Sandburg's chin before Jim had caught it on his right index fingertip, bringing the bit of moisture to his lips and licking it tenderly, all the love he felt for the man in his arms glowing from his ocean blue eyes. 

Both men jumped a bit as the snooze alarm once more announced its evil beeping, signaling the completion of 'Good Morning Nookie' time. Blair snickered a bit as he rolled off his lover's chest, allowing the older man to sigh resignedly as he once more turned and smacked the clock. 6:30. Time to get up. 

Jim sat up in the bed, pushing the pillows up so that they cushioned his back from the bed's headboard, stretching his arms over his head as he gazed down at his beloved's bare back, "Are you sure you want to take the day off, Chief? I could really use some help at the station...I'm sure I could find you some reports to type," Ellison sighed deeply as he listened to his beloved's snicker from beneath the sheets and comforter, where the younger man was currently burrowing deeper. 

The muffled and inaudible response was all Jim had to hear before he estimated where Blair's ass would be - and dropped his palm quite heavily in that general vicinity, smiling at the resulting yelp - before getting out of their erstwhile nest to head for the shower. "I'll get you for that, man!" Blair threatened from beneath layers of sheets and coverlets, "It's my day off!" 

"Yeah yeah yeah, I hear ya' Chief," Ellison smirked as he strode towards the bathroom, scratching his naked ass and reaching into the linen closet for a fresh towel before hitting the shower. "We should all be so lucky," Jim griped as he flung open the shower curtain and turned on the spigot, waiting for the water to warm up before he stepped in. As he waited, he relished the sound of his love's - albeit muffled - heartbeat from their shared bed, smiling as he entered the tub and promptly soaped up. 

Yeah, it was Blair's day off; a rarity in the Sandburg Zone, but every couple of months, the young man was rewarded with a break from the University. Concurrently, the CPD went along, giving Blair the day off from Jim's busy work as well. Hell, the kid was always burning the proverbial candle at both ends...he deserved a reprieve every now and again, and Ellison made sure that his partner had a chance - no matter how brief - to catch up on his sleep and downtime. Today was the day, and though Jim missed Blair's presence when he wasn't at the station, he knew that his Guide deserved the break. Today was the day, Jim thought as he rinsed himself, shut off the water, and stepped out of the tub into a clean, fluffy towel. Blair's day off...dammit, I'm going to miss him. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

Showered, shaven, and dressed in jeans and a white henley, Jim came down the stairs from their shared loft bedroom, delighted to find the air scented with eggs, toast, fresh grapefruit, and - dear God, could it be? - 1 freshly baked glazed donut from the bakery across the street. Blair looked up at his lover, clad in Jim's oversized robe, as the big man sauntered into the kitchen, stopping only when he stood behind his Guide, wrapping his arms around the lithe body and placing a slobbery kiss on the upturned cheek. 

"It's the donut, isn't it?" Blair deadpanned as he turned off the heat under the eggs, pretending to struggle to rid himself of the Sentinel on his back so that he could dish out their breakfast. 

"Mmmm, no it's you...you're delicious, Chief," Jim groaned into his mate's ear as he held his younger lover and attempted to impede Blair's progress from the stove to the plates. 

"Fine man, if you want to eat cold eggs, that's your prerogative," Sandburg chided with a grin, "Me? I prefer to eat things hot." Waggling his eyebrows, Blair used the spatula to load up their plates with eggs and toast, snickering at Jim's widely agape jaw before continuing, "Shut your mouth babe, you're only gonna' catch flies in there like that. This is gonna' be wayyy better than flies. Your plate's ready!" Sandburg announced cheerily as he handed Jim his breakfast with a wink, laughing as Ellison reached down with his free hand and smacked his Guide's ass as the man passed with his own plate, stopping only when he reached the table. 

Within minutes, both men settled at the table and ate their breakfasts, Jim finishing first so that he could enjoy the glazed delicacy that served as his dessert, eating it as erotically as possible while Blair grimaced at the fat and calories that Ellison was ingesting. 

"Jim, man, do you have any idea how they make those things?" Sandburg exploded as he watched Jim lick the icing off the donut enticingly, using his tongue to dip and delve into every crevice of the deep-fried treat in order to retrieve the hidden glaze within. 

"Those things will kill you, Jim. I swear, I don't even know why I bothered going over there to pick one up for you...they're evil, man! Pure, unadulterated...evil!" Blair emphasized as his voice cracked - just a slight bit - as Jim continued to lave and nip at the pastry within his grasp, all the while watching as Blair practically drooled over the show. 

"Aren't you due in the bullpen soon, lover?" Blair asked seductively, his pheromones radiating as he lowered his eyelids and looked at Jim with his best come-hither expression, "You can stand here and tease me all you want, but you still have to go to work, and I...don't!" Sandburg quipped. 

Blair watched as his Sentinel's expression faded from amused to frowning - despite swallowing the last of what was usually a forbidden treat - and holding his arms out to accept the younger man's embrace. Sandburg hurled himself so that he rested flush, once more, against every inch of his lover, smiling into Jim's freshly pressed shirt as the older man clutched him close. 

"I'll be home early babe," Jim whispered into Blair's right ear as he held his life-mate close, "Just half a day of court, and I'm off the hook so I can come back to your loving arms." Blair shivered in the embrace, and Jim chuckled into the curls beneath his chin, using two fingers to lift Sandburg's own chin up to accept his kiss. Liplock achieved, Jim managed to tear himself away from his love's luscious lips with an exaggerated groan, smiling as the younger man stepped away and plucked Jim's keys from the basket on the table next to the front door. 

"Here kitty kitty kitty," Blair sang in a lilting tone as he shook Ellison's keys between his thumb and forefinger, teasing the older man with his spirit animal, "Time to go...so you can come home and get your milk." Blair waggled his eyebrows and thrust his robe-clad hips out suggestively, and Jim growled as he pounced toward his Guide, grabbing the keys and another kiss before opening the door and exiting their home. He could still hear Blair laughing inside the loft as he strode towards the elevator, adjusting his rogue cock nonchalantly as he glanced quickly around to make sure no one was watching. Blair Jacob Sandburg would be the death of him yet, Jim thought to himself as he grinned and shook his head, stepping into the elevator as the doors swished open in welcome. It was going to be a looooong day. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

"Aaaaahhhhh," Blair said aloud to the empty loft once he'd gotten Jim off to work, "This is my day. Mine. ALL MINE!" He shouted for good measure, laughing to himself as he shrugged Jim's robe off, letting it fall to the floor and, bare-ass naked, climbed the stairs towards their shared bed. He took a running leap and landed on said bed face down, inhaling the scent of his and Jim's previous lovemaking deeply. Momentarily, he found himself wishing for his Sentinel's sense of smell, yearning to be able to practically taste the two of them together. 

Taking a deep sigh of regret that he'd be catching up on his sleep alone, the younger man smiled once more and pulled the covers back, snuggling down into the mattress as he pulled the bedding completely over himself, head and all. He grinned and closed his eyes as he buried his face in Jim's pillow, breathing in the scent of his mate as best as he could, drowsy already with the promise of the slumber that he was so desperately in need of. 

This was, after all, his day off. Blair's days off came so infrequently, so far between, that by the time he'd earned one, the young man had practically given up on all hope of remembering what it was like to sleep for over 8 hours at a time. Today was a great day, Sandburg thought as he drifted off once more into dreamland, memories of mere hours ago's loving playing out behind his closed lids until he was wrapped safely in the proverbial Sandman's grasp. Belly and sexual urges - for the moment, anyway - sated, the Guide of The Great City allowed himself to slumber, dreams of his soon-to-be-home mate coloring the darkness that fell over his consciousness. 

The young man was snuffling and snoring into his lover's pillow for a good half an hour before the front door swung silently open, then closed just as quietly behind the intruder. Lee Brackett, rogue CIA agent, had escaped from prison mere hours earlier; he knew that Captain Simon Banks would not receive the report for several hours to come. 

Despite his time in a very small and isolated cell, Brackett had kept his spirits up by having paid - dearly, in fact - for surveillance at 852 Prospect Avenue for the last several weeks. He'd bankrolled a couple of very intense characters' every whim so that he could find out every detail of life in the Ellison/Sandburg household. In fact, it was due to these same so-called unsavory characters that he had found himself busted out of the big house, hidden in a laundry bin, tossed and tumbled and nearly pressed to death - but not quite - as he was afforded his freedom. 

Three long years, Brackett thought with a wicked grin as he silently surveyed the living room and kitchen of Blair and Jim's home. Three years of waiting, and scheming, and dreaming of retribution, Lee pondered as he poked his head into what used to be Sandburg's bedroom - but now served as an office for the duo. 'It was worth the wait,' Brackett spoke silently to himself as he stood in the middle of the loft's living room and closed his eyes, reveling in the sound of Blair Sandburg's muted snores. 

Still grinning, Lee opened the front door of the loft again, moving as silently as possible as he slid two heavily-laden duffle bags into the apartment until his supplies were at his feet. Brackett leaned forward and pushed the loft's door shut softly, sure to fasten the deadbolt before rubbing his hands together, relishing the hot friction of his flesh as he dropped to his knees, ready to begin his revenge in earnest. 

His contacts had assured him that Jim Ellison would be in court until at least 2:00 PM; it was no mistake that this day was the one that Brackett would be freed. Sandburg rarely had a day off, and Lee had made certain sacrifices - sacrifices that would make even the hardest convict blanch - to find out when he'd be able to get the erstwhile Guide alone. All worth it, Brackett sneered silently as he unzipped the first black nylon bag as quietly as was humanly possible. 

Checking the clock in the living room, Lee Brackett was delighted when he found that he was, amazingly, ahead of schedule. It was only 9:36 AM, and he had hours yet in which to play with his prey...but that would come later. He shook his head as if to clear it, then focused all his concentration on the task at hand, smiling a bit wider each time he heard a muffled sound from the 2nd floor bedroom. 

As Lee emptied both bags of their contents, he relished the idea of finally being able to stride up the stairs, when he would drag Blair Sandburg out of the bed he shared with Detective James Ellison and torture him in the manner in which he deserved. But that was an albeitly short way off yet, Brackett reminded himself as he assembled a tiny video camera and spliced it to the lengths of cord needed to maintain power to where he would wait until JimBoy got home. It wouldn't be long before both Sentinel and Guide wished they'd never heard of Lee Brackett. And a little while after that, one of them would be dead, the remaining cop left to mourn and grieve to his heart's content. 

That was what Lee Brackett had dreamt of, every night, for the past three years. It was what kept him breathing, despite the rapes and the taunting and the tortures that assailed a government agent in prison. He may have been a bitch in prison at one time, but he was a rich bitch, and eventually the pain had paid off. As he stood in the middle of the loft's living room listening to Blair Sandburg sleep in peace overhead, he winced as he recalled all the times he had been forced to share his own bed with some unsavory or other. This is it, Lee sneered as he finished wiring the tiny camera and laid it across the island in the kitchen. 

It had taken him three years to dream up the ultimate revenge on the Sentinel and Guide of Cascade. Three years fraught with being bought and sold bodily to the highest bidder, supplying pimps with cigarettes, and playing feminine roles to whomever had the most connections. In the end, it had all paid off; those who had dared to rape him had been done away with in the worst of imaginable ways. Those who had dared doubt him had been rendered incapacitated in the most horrific manner of retribution. 

Once his reputation had been established, he found it quite simple to disspel with the pleasantries of climbing the 'social ladder' in the pen, and was able to get what he wanted without any further physical harm to his already injured person. Fellow inmates and guards alike knew that he had cash, and they assisted him in whatever he requested; that had been the first two years of Lee Brackett's incarceration. 

The past year had been spent merely listening. Receiving reports and filing them away mentally. Dreaming up every possible means of revenge. Tidbits stored up in a mind that held more horrors than should be humanly catalogued, mixed in with past experiences that screamed out for vengeance in a criminal's brain. Brackett saw himself with a gun, urging Sentinel and Guide along a pathway riddled with mines. Observed himself nearly achieving his goal until it was snatched away from his fingertips by a duo that defied every natural association of...well, association. 

That long-haired faggot and his partner were going to pay, Lee sniggered to himself. He paused only momentarily as the Guide moaned something unintelligible in his sleep, then continued on in slumber as Brackett hurried himself along. It wouldn't be long now; not long at all, Lee thought as he checked the clock again. 10:02 AM...ahead of schedule, Lee took out a rag and soaked it with the bottle of chloroform he'd managed to procure, careful to hold it well away from his own face. Arm outstretched, Brackett made his way silently up the stairs toward the first victim to be. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

Jim was sitting in the courtroom, less-than-patiently waiting for his turn on the stand when he saw his spirit guide. The panther strode into the room nonchalantly, flicking its tail back and forth as it loped down the aisles of seats before stopping at the end of Ellison's row and sitting on its haunches. Restlessly, the big black cat twitched its whiskers and continued to move its tail, glancing impatiently back at the door through which it had entered, seemingly wanting the Sentinel to follow it. 'Not now, dammit,' Jim thought to it, to which the great cat answered with a hiss and an impatient shrug of its shoulders, still gazing back at the entrance to the courtroom. 

Ellison checked his watch for what must've been the hundredth time since leaving the loft - 11:22 AM. Jesus, all he could see in his head was visions of Blair. Home alone and most likely naked. Sprawled across their bed in all his glory, waiting for his Sentinel to come and claim him. Sweating a bit, Jim wiped his brow and growled internally at his spirit guide; the great cat opened its jaws wide and hissed once more at its human counterpart before getting up and pacing back and forth several more times. The animal roared, glanced at Jim impatiently, and disappeared back out the courtroom doors. 

'FUCK!' Jim thought to himself as he tried to force his waning attention back to the trial before him. This was an open and shut case; the perp had been busted in the process of breaking into a local jewelry store, unable to grab so much as a pair of earrings before the cavalry had come busting in behind him. Much as Jim detested a day in court, this guy had already succeeded in bilking three other businesses in Cascade out of thousands of dollars' worth of goods. Jim's testimony, along with the other three officers involved, would put this guy away for years...but what if Blair really was in trouble? The panther only appeared when it was absolutely pertinent...and the wolf was missing at the moment. Lately, when Jim would see his spirit guide, his Guide's wolf would be there also. Seeing the panther sans wolf flanking its side unnerved Jim...to the point that he left the courtroom and phoned his Captain. 

"Banks," the customary gruff greeting bellowed in Jim's ear, and he took a deep breath before allowing himself to speak. 

"Simon, it's me." 

"Ellison, why aren't you in court?" 

"I am, sir. I just...have you heard anything across the wire today, sir?" Jim asked, holding his breath as he anxiously awaited Simon's response. 

"Like what, Detective?" Simon asked, shades of sarcasm evident in his tone. 

"I don't know exactly, sir. Just...anything, really," Ellison replied, feeling more than a bit foolish at having left the courtroom following one of his...visions. 

"Isn't it almost time for lunch recess, Detective?" Banks inquired, and Jim could practically hear his Captain spinning a cigar between thumb and forefinger as he rolled his eyes and placated his best - and most annoying - subordinate. 

"Yes sir, it is," Jim sighed frustratedly as he gave in to his Captain's signals. 

"Well then, I suppose you'll be able to call home and check in with Sandburg in a few minutes, won't you?" Simon asked, and Jim could hear the sneer in the older man's voice as he continued. 

"Yes...sir, I suppose I will. Sorry to have bothered you, Simon," Jim muttered apologetically as he disconnected his cellphone. Just then, people began filing out of the courtroom, and Ellison heaved a deep sigh of relief as he flipped open his cell and dialed home. He would be testifying after lunch then...good. 

The phone rang its customary four times before the machine picked up, and Jim listened intently to the message before pressing # and 9 for any received messages. None were recorded, and Jim hung up and dialed back quickly, waiting for the message to complete before he began to leave his message. 

"Chief? Are you there? Are you sleeping? I just...a little bit ago, I saw...I mean, I was just wondering...just wanted to make sure you were alright. Blair? You there, buddy? Miss you," Ellison finished, feeling more than a little foolish as he clicked off his cellphone and left the courthouse in search of food. Sandburg had most likely nodded off, as he did on all off his rare days off, and Jim would be able to come home and love him awake once the trial was over with. Content that he had made the right decision in checking up on his Guide as best as he could - especially after the visit from his spirit guide - Jim made his way up Broad Street towards Wonderburger. 

Despite the rumblings from his stomach, the Sentinel felt a niggling in the back of his brain that refused to abate, even after he'd finished his lunch and settled the complaints from his midsection. He phoned home once more and left his lover another message, growling like his Spirit Guide had in the courtroom while he promised of ravishings to come, before hanging up with a sigh. Blair was a heavy sleeper, and Jim mused over how he would coax his other half out of dreamland in just a couple hours' time. Ellison entered the courthouse with a smug grin on his face, more anxious than ever to get his testimony over with so he could get home. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

Lee Brackett froze in his tracks the first time he heard the phone ring; he looked over his shoulder as he worked, ensuring that his young captive wouldn't be disturbed by the shrill sound of the offending object. As suspected, Sandburg remained unconscious; the chloroform had done its work, and the younger man would most likely stay down for the count for another half hour or so if Brackett's calculations were correct. 

The Guide to the Sentinel of the Great City lay prone on the sofa, clad only in his black boxers and faded gray Cascade PD tee-shirt, ankles duct-taped snugly together while another healthy piece of the silvery material obscured his mouth, reaching from ear to ear in length. Hands cuffed behind his back, Blair had no ability to move - even if he were awake to do so. Satisfied with his work thus far, Lee got back to fixing up his "Loft Eye" as he'd named it. He strung the nearly invisible cable wire from the post at the top of the railing of Jim's bedroom down the stairs, then along the floor to the balcony, finally allowing the last several hundred yards of cable to rest in a heap on the ground outside. 

The microscopic camera that rested on the top of the stairs would enable Brackett to watch the coming proceedings from safely across the street, where he had been able to procure an empty apartment in order to spy on the unsuspecting duo as the soon-to-be tragedy played itself out. With a complete view of the loft's living room, there was no way Lee would miss any rescue attempt on Blair's behalf...nor would he miss any of the ensuing activity with the other cameras that he had placed, such as the one in the hallway of 852 Prospect. Or the stairwell just outside the front door. Or the elevator just down the hall...and/or the one that spied on the sidewalk just in front of the building, should Ellison make it that far with his soon-to-be discharged...charge. Brackett allowed himself to chuckle aloud; now that Sandburg was in his grasp, all that was left to do was finish communications to his own control center across the street, and he would be home free and able to view the show of a lifetime. 

Carefully arranging the wiring under the edge of the carpeting so that it was undetectable by the naked eye, Lee made his way once more out onto the balcony, this time wielding a small harpoon gun. He attached the end of the wires to the arrow already affixed to the bow and, aiming carefully, shot them across the chasm separating the two buildings. As the glass window to his own lair shattered inwards, Brackett allowed himself a slight, "Whoop!" of joy, dropping the bow and spinning around at the sounds emanating from the living room. Sandburg was waking up early - damn! Just then, the phone rang again. 

Brackett rolled his eyes as he listened to the newest recording being made, striding confidently back into the loft and sneering down at the young man who currently wrestled with his bonds, trying in vain to free himself. Blair's breaths expelled loudly from his nose, his mouth sealed tightly shut with duct tape as he looked up, albeit foggily, to see his captor leering above, hands poised sternly on his hips. Sandburg froze all movement then, ice blue eyes opened widely as they drank in the sight of the man looming over him. Lee fucking Brackett. Shit. No, double shit. And Jim was in court. Triple shit. 'But it's my day off, man,' Blair thought to himself sadly as he closed his eyes and tried to gather what resolve he had left, 'it's my day off, and Jim will be home soon...' 

The escaped convict gazed down at his victim for a moment, trying to decide what to do with the young man; should he dose Blair once more with Chloroform, or just let him struggle, wear himself out, and then succumb to the ultimate culmination of the plan? Weighing both sides of his options carefully, Brackett soaked the cloth resting on the coffee table once more with the pungent liquid, much to Blair's inaudible consternation. As the young man fell back into unconsciousness, Lee leaned down and placed a chaste kiss on the forehead of the beautiful boy beneath him; if he weren't so pressed for time, he might take a break and play with the gorgeous treat under his nose. 'Alas, time is fleeting,' the CIA agent thought with a slight frown as he turned away from Blair for the last time, allowing himself to remain immersed in his plan for revenge until it could come to fruition. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

Detective James Ellison squirmed in the witness seat; it wasn't the questions demanding his answers, nor the never-ending 'clickety-clack' of the court typist's fingers on the keys that caused his inattentiveness. It was the black panther that once more came bounding through the doors of the courtroom a mere ten minutes after he'd bodily taken the stand - black furry head held high, still sans wolf at its side - that made Jim shrink down in his seat, checking his watch yet again. 1:29 PM...surely this would be over soon so he could leave, the Sentinel thought to himself. 

The Sentinel watched his Spirit Guide pace, tail ever-restless, golden gaze ever watchful back over its shoulder at the swinging doors entering the courtroom, and it was all he could do to take his next breath. Something was dreadfully wrong with his Guide, partner, soulmate, and lover. And if he didn't hurry this goddamned court case along, it would be too late...he was sure of it. 

"So Detective Ellison, you're saying that despite the interior of the store being pitch black...despite the time being in the dead of night...you can say beyond a shadow of a doubt that it was my client you saw?" The defense attorney asked with a smartass grin and chuckle. 

"Yes, that's exactly what I'm saying. Anyone who looks at the security tapes from the previous three robberies, along with the evidence from this fourth, can see that it is your client, Counselor," Jim sneered as he finished, "Along, of course, with the fingerprint evidence in hand." With that proclamation, the prosecutor supplied the charts showing the aforementioned perp's prints, along with those from the last three crime scenes. 

Jim breathed a deep sigh of relief as the jury murmured collectively, making the judge pound his gavel for order before the defense finally rested. Once officially excused, Jim made his way down from the stand and headed straight for the exit from the courtroom, not caring one iota about the judge's whispered, 'harumphs' or the defense's snarled, 'whatever'. 

Jim exited the courthouse, following the big black cat down the multitude of steps outside before heading directly for the trusty blue and white Ford parked along the curb. Just as suddenly as the panther had appeared, it disappeared into thin air, leaving behind what could only be described, in Jim's opinion, as a puff of smoke. Smoke that Ellison swore he could smell...and then the far off howling that he still wasn't certain he'd actually heard, coming from the direction of home. There was no sign of the wolf, and the Sentinel was focused intently on both his visions and getting to the loft as quickly as possible as he revved up the engine and pealed out of his parking space. Headed for home, he wondered vaguely if the siren and lights would make any difference, thinking nothing of it as he switched both on, weaving in and out of traffic as he made his way quickly towards 852 Prospect...and his Guide. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

Lee Brackett settled himself into his newly appointed 'home'. The television that had formerly graced the so-called 'Dynamic Duo's' apartment was now securely hooked up in front of him, relaying images from the apartment across the street, as well as the other cameras he'd installed, via a split-screen software program. He rubbed his hands together before twisting the cork out of a bottle of 20-year old Merlot, pouring himself a glass as he prepared to watch the afternoon's festivities play out before him, one critical act at a time. Smoke was already leaking out of the third floor loft at 852 Prospect, and Brackett lay back in the La-Z-Boy recliner he'd bought the previous afternoon - online, of course, with ASAP pickup - clutching his wineglass. He looked for any sign of impending rescue for the young man currently sputtering on the screen before him, delighting in the gasps and bodily shudders...and subsequent ceasing of such, mere moments later. 

Once Lee had finished his wiring duties, he'd pulled Sandburg's still limp body into his arms from the sofa and wrangled the Guide into a dining room chair, plopping him roughly down into a seated position. Blair didn't utter the slightest of sounds as Brackett knelt down on the floor in front of him, duct taping the young man's ankles to each respective chair leg. Making sure to wrap the tape several times around each ankle, Lee continued up to Blair's waist. He reached behind the still limp man and uncuffed him, resting each arm along its respective armrest. Using several more yards of the gray sticky stuff to pin Sandburg bodily at the waist against the rails that ran up and down the chair's back, he then wrapped tape round and round each wrist at the end of each armrest. Brackett was certain there was no way that Ellison would be able to merely pull his partner loose; no, this would entail some serious cutting action - for which there would be no time once Jim got into the apartment. Assuming, of course, that it wasn't already too late. 

The ex-CIA agent finished securing the Guide of the Great City to the dining room chair, then pushed the erstwhile prisoner over to rest directly in front of the fireplace. Brackett stood and headed for his remaining supplies - now in the form of an armload of wood, split to his precise instruction and slightly damp to the touch - just as he'd requested. It rested on the floor next to the now emptied bags, and he wiped the sweat dripping from his hairline away with the back of a hand before bending down and loading himself up with his cache. He'd carried the wood to the fireplace and loaded it up with the pyramid of moist but volatile kindling; he'd definitely be paying the bonus for the extra care that had been taken in assuring the wood would burn despite its dampness. If the permeating scent of kerosene was any indicator, it wouldn't take long at all before Sandburg was one smoked son of a bitch. 

Once the fire was ready to start, Lee reached up inside the structure and pulled the flue shut. He returned to the items that remained on the floor next to where the wood rested; a medium-sized bellows and a gas mask. Nearly skipping, Brackett strode back to where Sandburg sat, taped more than securely to the chair. Laying the bellows and mask down, Lee knelt down in front of Blair and began to slap the young man's face, first one side and then the other, until pale blue eyes opened wide, fear registering instantly once the Guide remembered what was going on. The convict checked his watch and smiled up at the young man in front of him, nodding his head as he began to speak what would most likely - if this plan went the way it was supposed to - be the last words the young Detective would ever hear. 

"Mr. Sandburg? Can you hear me?" Brackett asked before continuing, "I would call you Dr. Sandburg, but you just never quite made it, did you?" Lee sneered with a cruel laugh as Blair closed his eyes tightly, trying not to let his tears escape...and failing as the salty drops found their way down his cheeks, much to the glee of his captor. "It would appear at this point that you won't quite make it to much of anything else either, I'm afraid. It's 1:13 PM, Blair. Do you know where your Sentinel is?" Brackett had laughed then, delighted as Sandburg began snuffling and muttering behind his duct taped mouth, his breaths coming in and leaving his nose faster with each passing moment. 

"Sssshhh, don't panic, Mr. Sandburg. That will only make it worse for you. You see, panic makes you breathe much faster than normal. It makes your body require much more oxygen than usual to process a breath and, very soon now Blair, you simply won't have the oxygen to spare." Blair tried to pull away as Brackett got to his feet and reached down with his hands to brush some stray curls back from the younger man's face, muffled screams coming from behind the silver gag. 

"Fine then, have it your way. Never let it be said that I didn't try to be kind to you in your last moments, Blair," Brackett smiled as he reached into his jeans pocket and procured a lighter, flicking the flame to life before finishing. "But then, I don't suppose you'll have much to say by the time JimBoy comes home," Lee continued grinning as he turned his back to Sandburg. Bending over the fireplace, Brackett lit the bottom-most log and jumped back quickly as the fire instantly ignited. 

Blair watched in horror as the fireplace fairly exploded in orange and blue light, Lee jumping out of the way just in time so as not to be singed, making his way quickly towards the discarded mask and bellows resting on the floor. Slipping the mask over his head, Brackett watched the flames burn brightly and hotly for several moments before dying back a bit. At that point, he dropped to his knees beside the hearth and began pumping the bellows open and closed, open and closed, breathing air into the fire that would suffocate without his assistance...for the moment, anyway. Smoke had begun to pour from the fireplace and quickly masked the entire lower floor of the loft in gray, produced faster as Brackett continued to pump the bellows. He listened to Blair choke with a maniacal grin as the smoke filled the younger man's lungs with each passing second, pathetic attempted coughs muffled behind the duct tape that sealed his largest orifice. Blue eyes watered so badly that they quickly turned ruby red from the irritants filling the loft, nearly bulging out of their sockets as the Guide struggled to expel just one single cough. 

Lee checked his watch one final time - 1:29 PM, though he could barely see it for the smoke in the room - before he'd dropped the bellows to the floor, satisfied that his plan was well on its way to being successful. Taking several more deep breaths from behind his mask, Brackett leaned down and ripped the tape uncerimoniously from Blair's face, ignoring the bits of blood that welled where flesh had been flayed around the younger man's mouth. Brackett dropped the tape and his mask to the floor just inside the front door of the loft - as though to taunt the young man gagging behind him - before he opened the front door quickly, then shut it and locked it once more. He made his way down the hall to the elevators and rode calmly down to the street floor, where he exited the boxcar and headed out onto the street. As he crossed Prospect Avenue, Lee gazed up and over his shoulder, humming and smiling as he watched the loft apartment on the third floor. There was no sign of sirens, or firetrucks, or Sentinels. Hurrying up and into his own loft, Brackett slid down into his plush La-Z-Boy chair and prepared to watch Blair Sandburg fade away. 

Lee had already prepared his so-called 'Victory Celebration'; the wine rested next to his chair, along with a sole wineglass and corkscrew, and a small plate of cheese and crackers. Popping the cork from the bottle, the convict took a deep breath before holding his lone full glass up to the stolen TV screen in front of him and toasting the image there. Sandburg shuddered and shook in his bonds, unable to do much more than continue to breathe in and choke out the poison that continued to rapidly fill the apartment. Dropping his chin to rest on his chest, errant auburn curls partially obscuring his face, Blair Jacob Sandburg stopped struggling and embraced the fate that was so intent on claiming him. His chest no longer heaved, and his face no longer contorted with lack of air; the young man was, as Lee watched, ceasing to be. 

Tossing back the dregs of his current glass, Brackett poured himself another - even as he heard the wail of sirens. Sirens that were most likely Jim Ellison, playing cavalry, heading home to try and save the day...and his partner. "Too bad, Detective," Lee snorted aloud as he took another long draught from his glass, "Your little buddy just gave up...but feel free to come and get him, Jimmy boy," Brackett sighed with a smile, "If you can." 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

Jim Ellison found his heart beating faster, practically pounding out of his chest as he pulled up to the curb in front of Collette's, not even bothering to shut off the truck's engine before he leapt out of the vehicle and sprinted to the building's entrance. "Blair!" Jim shouted as he looked up and watched in horror as the smoke began trickled out from right where their balcony was. He made his way up three flights of stairs, coughing the entire way - even as he called Simon for the Fire Department and backup - shouting out the doors at every floor to make sure the neighbors were all out of the building - and harm's way. He opened his hearing up to listen for pulses, but heard none; everyone was still, thankfully, at work at this time of day. The elderly lady on the second floor beneath his and Blair's apartment was out of town, and no one else was home as far as the Sentinel could tell. 

"Ohhh Jim, ever the Good Samaritan," Brackett laughed as he listened - and watched when possible - Ellison's progress up to his home and, ultimately, the young man trapped therein. "Almost there, Detective," Lee said as he watched the split screen showing two things simultaneously; Jim's ascent up the stairwell, and Blair Sandburg's prone form finally disappearing into the smoke now permeating the loft's living room. Brackett glanced once more at the timepiece gracing his wrist, burning the time into his brain...2:04 PM. "Yessssss," the convict hissed as he listened to the Sentinel's jangling keys, stress and fear prohibiting the older man from finding his key right away. He wasted precious seconds in his struggle, but never faltered in his attempt to reach his Guide. The beloved heartbeat slowed, then slowed some more before Jim managed to open the front door, choking immediately when the onslaught of smoke clouded every one of his senses all at once. 

"Sandburg," Ellison coughed as he held his hands over his face and entered the smoke-filled apartment, "Blair? BLAIR?" Jim screamed through the blinding black fog that was his and his lover's home, "Where are you, baby?" Jim sobbed as he made his way further into the loft, much to Brackett's delight. 

Opening up all hearing - the only sense able to function at the moment - the Sentinel of the Great City managed to find his Guide's heartbeat. It emanated, weakly but surely, from somewhere in the center of the room. Following the ever-present beacon, Jim managed to locate his lover. With an agonizing roar, Ellison blindly reached down for Blair, only to find his soulmate affixed to a chair nearest the still-contained but deadly smoking blaze. Jim reached down and hefted the chair that held his lover into his arms before making his way back out of the smoke-ridden apartment. Jim keened the entire way down the stairs, Guide and chair held lovingly in his grasp, refusing to stop until he was kneeling next to Blair on the sidewalk in front of their building. Jim leaned the chair back so that the younger man was mostly horizontal, feet and legs in the air, but his back and head resting on the unforgiving concrete beneath. 

Ignoring the smoky scent of freshly burned wood emanating from his Guide's body, Jim pushed smoke-filled tendrils of hair away from the younger man's forehead while clutching his lover's face within both of his big hands. For the moment, CPR wasn't an option, because Blair was still breathing - albeit shallowly and chokingly. Ellison settled for words. "Blair," Jim fairly panted into his love's mouth, "Sandburg, I'm here...I'm here, Chief...come on baby, I need you," Ellison breathed. Tears ran unnoticed down his cheeks and came to rest on his Guide's face as the bigger man sobbed uncontrollably, face now buried in the smoky teeshirt blanketing his love's chest...much to Brackett's delight as the convict watched the scene play out from across the street. 

Ellison looked longingly up at his partner's face, mortified at how pale the young man seemed beneath the ash and smoke residue that clung to his features. "Come on baby, stay with me, please..." Jim begged in a whimpered whisper, his voice trailing off and leaving him as he continued murmuring to his still-unresponsive partner. "Blair," Jim whined as tears continued to stream down his face and soak the young man beneath him. It was at that moment that the Sentinel heard the slightest waver in the air and lifted his head from his lover's body to look up...there! A camera...one of those tiny fucking spy cameras...aimed directly at the scene playing out oh-so-dramatically on the curb at 852 Prospect. Despite his intense concentration on his partners' well-being, Jim had heard the tiny camera zooming in from overhead, and with a grimace, turned his attentions back to Blair for the moment. There would be time for investigation and, ultimately, retribution - once the Guide was out of danger. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

Sirens' wails filled the air as Ellison and his partners' quandary permeated the emergency frequencies on all radios in the area, Cascade's finest coming out to support and investigate their brothers' calls for assistance. Jim glanced down at his lover's face once more, satisfied to see a bit of color lighting the young man's cheeks as the EMT's pulled up alongside the scene. Ellison stayed with his partner until the paramedics had hooked Sandburg up to IV's and loaded him into the ambulance, maintaining the tiniest semblance of cool that he could until he was assured that his Guide was out of immediate peril. He'd meet up with Blair at the hospital shortly...for now, he had another fish to fry. 

"Jim," Simon Banks groused, not at all surprised when his finest Detective failed to meet his gaze or his irritated tone; obviously, Ellison had his eye on the problem, and the Captain had little doubt that the perp would be busted quite soon. Banks followed the Sentinel's gaze upwards, failing to see what Jim could make out quite clearly - a cable leading from the loft's balcony, across the alley, and leading into an apartment directly across the street. 

"He's up there sir," Jim began, not even meeting his Captain's eyes as he headed across the street and prepared to beat the living hell out of whomever had dared try to take his Guide away. "He's there; I can smell him. I can hear him. He's drinking 20 year-old Merlot, and he's...he's fucking celebrating, Simon." Jim shouted this last over his shoulder as he made his way towards the entrance of the building directly opposite the one he shared with his partner. 

"Ellison," Banks began again with a warning tone, easing off when he saw the back of Ellison's right hand come up in surrender as the burly detective stalked into the establishment. The Sentinel had no desire to kill, nor to maim, nor to do bodily harm; this was purely for the Guide, now. This was the time to capture the threat to the best Major Crimes Team. Capture, process, and incarcerate. That was Jim's mantra as he headed up three flights of stairs once more, focusing in on the coward that was even now scrambling around in his so-called nest, trying to find an escape route where none existed. Brackett had covered everything with cameras and sound and high-tech genius, but failed to follow through on one final point - his second escape. The prison break turned out to be nothing in comparison to breaking away from the Sentinel of the Great City. Eluding that threat never crossed Lee's mind; he'd assumed the Guide would be dead, and Jim would be so in mourning - so attuned to his loss - that nothing else would matter. What Lee Brackett, ex-CIA agent extraordinaire, hadn't counted on was the everlasting bond between partners; between Sentinel and Guide; between Jim Ellison and Blair Sandburg; between lovers and soulmates. A bond that could never be severed by any mere mortal...especially one the likes of Lee Brackett. 

Brackett shuddered briefly, then shrugged, refusing to leave his spot in his La-Z-Boy recliner as he sipped his wine and waited for the Sentinel to knock at his door. Ten seconds later, there was a knock at Lee's entryway; the escaped convict tossed back the rest of his glass of wine before getting up and answering the door, bowing animatedly before beckoning the Detective into his new and now soon-to-be ex- home. "Detective Ellison, I've been expecting you," Brackett slurred slightly as he made his way back to his chair, plopping down into it once more before pouring himself the final dregs of his prized bottle of wine. He lifted his glass up in a toast to the fuming man in front of him, waggling his eyebrows as he smiled and drank the entire glass, his now-foggy gaze never leaving that of the steely-eyed officer before him. 

"Let's go, Lee," Jim stated, holding out a pair of handcuffs so that Brackett could surrender with what little dignity he still held onto, "You know the drill." 

"I don't think so, Detective...no...Mr. Sentinel," Lee sneered as he tossed his wineglass into the empty fireplace across the living room, closing his eyes and delighting in the shattering sound of the glass. "I've worked so hard, Jim. Harder than you'll ever know," Brackett began, tracking Jim's movements around his own loft's living room as the cop paced impatiently, before continuing, "I've been...a...a bitch to so many men, you have no idea -" Brackett's voice trailed off. "I paid...thousands of dollars to ensure that I could exact revenge on you and your pansy-assed partner," Lee continued with a choking voice, ignoring Jim's flinching and fist-clenching. 

"All I ever wanted was to see you in pain, Detective. The same fucking pain that I've had to live with since you put me away," Brackett's voice cracked and broke. Ellison momentarily shut his eyes and swallowed harshly as he remembered all the taunting and harsh words he himself - and Blair - had endured since taking on a young Grad Student as his partner. "Pain that no one else could possibly bear...and...and do you want to know why, Detective?" Brackett screamed, tears falling down and soaking his shirt unnoticed as he rested in his La-Z-Boy chair and finally held his arms out, wrists together, waiting to be cuffed by CPD's best. 

"Yeah, Lee, I do. Why?" Jim asked grimly as he stepped forward and placed the heavy metal cuffs around the now-surrendering man's wrists, stepping back once his task was accomplished, anxiously awaiting the response. 

"I loved him," Lee whispered tearily, closing his eyes before he could see Jim's reaction, continuing seconds later, "He's so fucking beautiful, with those eyes and that hair and that...that compact little body," Brackett went on, stopping only when the sobs consumed the remainder of his breath. "I wanted him to be mine...it wasn't fair that he was yours. And he wasn't even yours then," Lee cried, "I asked him to take your belt off and he wouldn't...I wanted him, and I dreamt of him, all those years in prison..." 

Jim clamped his eyes shut as he remembered his and Blair's last encounter with the man sobbing before him, grieving along with the ex-CIA agent for a moment as he remembered his life P.S. - Pre-Sandburg - before coming back to himself and straightening his shoulders. Grabbing the escaped con's hands to lead Brackett out of his newly found lair, Jim said, "That may be the case, Brackett, but things have changed now." Jim dropped his tone so that it couldn't be detected by the cameras' voice-chips, taking on a maniacal grin of his own as he assured his prisoner, "He'd take it all off for me now. And his own, to boot." Lee dropped his head so that his chin rested on his chest, obscuring his face from the eyes of his own planted cameras while Detective Ellison escorted him towards - and ultimately into - Captain Banks' waiting squad car. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

Two hours later, Brackett's statements given and Captain Banks' reports completed on time for a change, Jim Ellison found himself once again at Cascade General Hospital. Once more pacing the Waiting Room in search of word on his Guide's condition. Once more shoving the orange plastic chairs out of his way as he managed to wear an invisible path across the dirty, tired tile beneath his shoes. Goddammit, thought Jim, they do this shit on purpose! They make me stand out here and wear a path so the old farts that come in can find their way to the restroo- 

"Detective Ellison?" A high-pitched voice stopped Jim in his tracks and ceased his inner-monologue. 

"Yeah, that's me," Jim said expectantly, "You have news on my partner? Blair Sandburg? He had massive smoke-inhalation, but the EMT's got there and hooked him up and he's supposed to be -" Jim's voice trailed off as he watched the nurse's barely-suppressed grin, "What?" Ellison gasped as he listened intently for news of his Guide. 

"Yes, Detective, he's going to be just fine. They managed to pump the majority of smoke from your partner's lungs, and despite the physicians' urgings against him speaking, Mr. Sandburg has managed to utter your name as his sole want at this time," Nurse...Taromina, Jim saw as he searched for her nametag jubilantly, reported. 

"Can I... May I see him, please?" Jim asked, breaking into a shy grin as the duty nurse replied, "I've heard all about the two of you, Detective, and I realize that it would be ridiculous for me to try and keep you from your partner's side. Regular visiting hours obviously do not apply to the two of you - even if they are currently in effect...so you go right on in," the matronly woman replied with a wink. 

"Thank you, ma'am," Jim answered with a charming smile that he usually reserved only for his Guide...but today, he was feeling particularly giving. He entered Sandburg's room and immediately inhaled deeply; his partner still reeked of smoke, but the young man's pulse was just a bit below normal, the vitals nearly average. Jim grimaced as he eyed his younger lover lying pale in the hospital bed, errant curls spread out atop the pillow alongside the beloved head. Ellison snagged one of the dreaded cheap orange plastic chairs from beneath the window across the room and dragged it so that it rested alongside Blair's bed, seating himself and taking the young man's limp left hand between both of his own strong paws. 

"Chief," Jim whispered as he leaned over his lover's prone form, "I'm here, sweetness, and I'm not leaving you, okay Blair?" Jim asked, his heart pounding when no reply was forthcoming. Trying to settle his own pulse, Jim leaned down and kissed Blair's smoky-scented and still ash-gray colored forehead, clenching his eyes shut as he recalled just how close he'd come to once again losing his Guide. Resting his forehead against that of his still out-of-it lover, Jim muttered, "I love you so much, my dearest. Never leave me Chief," the tough cop managed before his voice broke and he lifted his forehead away from his lover's, slightly embarassed at his own emotional display before remembering the sight of his partner in the smoke-filled room of the loft. 

He envisioned Blair alone and bound to a solitary chair resting in front of the fireplace, smoke and ash spewing forth to torture and suffocate his beloved. He saw himself helpless time after time, rushing up never-ending flights of stairs trying to reach his partner, failing at the last minute and hearing Sandburg take his final breath, Jim screaming, "Noooooo!" continually until the bigger man was hoarse from the effort. He'd reach his love mere seconds after the younger man had expired, no amount of CPR or murmured sweet nothings able to bring him back from the brink of death. 

"Jesus Christ and Allah and Buddha and all the Gods, Chief, come back to me, please," Jim bade his still-silent charge, tears flowing down the older cop's cheeks as he begged his younger partner to return to him. "I don't know what to do, Blair...I can't do this without you. I can't do any of this without you, Chief," Ellison sputtered before losing his tongue completely and bringing the younger man's hand up to his lips, pressing silent kiss after silent kiss to the warm flesh beneath his own. "Please baby," Jim finished, making sure that Blair could feel his lover's lips' desire against the back of his still-unresponsive extremity. 

"Juh...him," a tiny voice reverberated against the Sentinel's lips; audibly it was no more than a whisper, but physically...Jim's very flesh rejoiced immediately at the feel of his Guide's mutterings. 

"Blair?" Jim gasped, clutching the younger man's hand more tightly within both of his own. 

"Ji...im?" Sandburg managed, his eyes fluttering minutely as his Sentinel's gaze looked adoringly down. 

"Sandburg?" Ellison whispered, begging his Guide to open his azul gaze wide enough to be drunken in - and therefore drowned in. 

"Jim," the Guide finally muttered wholly, opening his eyes briefly before shutting them again, then allowing them to open once more, the lapis orbs capturing those of his partner immediately. Sandburg reached weakly up and grasped his Sentinel's hands in his own, all four hands grasping at once for the lively grip of the other, both men chuckling a bit before vocalizing once again. 

"How do you feel, sweetheart?" Jim asked as he looked lovingly down on the other half of his soul, smile beaming fully for the first time in hours as he released one of Blair's hands and reached up to stroke the ash-covered cheek nearest him tenderly. 

"Smoky," Sandburg replied with a bout of coughing that had the Sentinel out of his seat within milliseconds before coming to rest once more on the edge of his partner's bed. 

"Sssshhh, don't talk baby...the doctor says you'll be fine once the toxins have worked their way out of your system," Jim supplied as he clutched both of Blair's hands between his own once more. 

"It was Brackett, Jim," Blair croaked, stoically ignoring Jim's - and the doctor's - pleas, "Lee...he go-" the sentence ended with another bout of choking. Jim assumed the dreaded 'Mother Hen' stance and freed one of his hands in order to allow it to rest lightly across his stubborn and motor-mouthed partner's lips. 

"I mean it, Blair. I know who it was. I busted him, and he's in custody." Jim waited for the raised eyebrows and concerned, questioning gaze that wanted to know if Ellison had killed the perp. The Sentinel smiled at the rewarding - and anticipated - response before shaking his head and leaning down to kiss his lover softly on the cheek, "No Chief, I didn't kill him. But he's not going to be out again anytime soon, I can guarantee you that." 

Blair nodded with a lopsided grin, squeezing his Sentinel's hands firmly as his eyelids fluttered shut. "That's right, Chief. You sleep. Rest. I'll be here when you wake up, and I'll take you home, and I'll be with you always, dearest." Jim held his other half's hands in his own as he listened intently to the beloved heartbeat slow into natural rest, releasing the extremities only long enough to seat himself once more in the chair alongside his Guide's bed. Grasping Blair's hands once more within his own, Jim kissed the beloved knuckles - all ten, one at a time - before clutching the hands bodily to his chest. With his partner's hands held lovingly across his own heart, Jim made a whispered yet solemn vow. 

To his enhanced hearing, the sound of his nearly silent voice echoed off the hospital walls surrounding them...to anyone else in the vicinity, nothing but silence permeated the room currently housing Sentinel and Guide of the Great City. Assured that his words would not be heard by any unwelcome presence, Jim spoke in a breathy lack-of-voice, "Hear me now, Guide of the Great City of Cascade. From this moment forward, you are no longer permitted any day off...from any activity...unless your Sentinel accompanies you..." 

As Detective James Ellison gazed down upon his love's face, he stopped his nearly silent rant almost immediately when the upturned corners of his partner's mouth signalled that his wish had been heard, no matter how unconsciously. The burly detective silenced himself, dropping his head down to rest on the edge of his partner's bed - where their hands, all four of them, remained entwined. Resting his chin atop the happily mingled extremities, the Sentinel closed his eyes and allowed himself to finally drift off, a half-smile that matched that of his partner's gracing his lips. 

**XOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXOXO**

* * *

End Blair's Day Off by Jvantheterrible: duranjaxter@comcast.net

Author and story notes above.

  
Disclaimer: _The Sentinel_ is owned etc. by Pet Fly, Inc. These pages and the stories on them are not meant to infringe on, nor are they endorsed by, Pet Fly, Inc. and Paramount. 


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